The Obese and the Malnourished
by HolyToothbrush
Summary: the usual sexy Hermione and the hunky Draco. or NOT.
1. underneath the layers of THICK bedsheets

**The Obese and the Malnourished**

**PLAN AND **a bit of the **PLOT**

I was thinking about clichés and stuff and how to improve my "writing skills" when I thought of a story where I get to ridicule the cliché stories. But there already are hundreds of them! So.. I thought. What if Hermione wasn't the curvy, sexy, luscious, suddenly-straight-haired lady and draco wasn't the usual haughty-but-oh-so-gorgeous, six-packed, tall, triceped, biceped, whatever-there-is-to-name-as-long-as-it-says-I-have-MUSCLES-miraculously-because-of-Quidditch hunk, and all of these magically happened during the summer before 7th year?

So okay, here's the thing. Hermione's a pig. And Draco… well, he isn't physically equipped. And I'm not only talking about the "equipped" you're thinking about. But I mean, the whole package unequipped. Without the muscles, the height, and definitely the beautiful blonde hair.

And of course, where would they find comfort once they get teased by the people around them? Why, in each other's arms, of course!

I don't know if people would still want to read this on account that they want oh-so-perfect-characters. But if you want something different, unbelievable, exaggerated, weird, strange, and gross.. on with the story.

**Chapter 1– underneath the layers of THICK bed sheets**

It was still five in the morning when Hermione Granger woke up. Not only that she was excited for her Hogwarts annual shopping, but her stomach grumbled. Her big three layers of tubby tummy rumbled and grumbled. Her big three layers of tubby tummy that measured forty-two inches. Each. She moaned and groaned. NOT because of a sexual thing. But because she was hungry.

"MAHK-THUR!" she called out. "I'M HUNGKRY!"

She violently shook the breakfast table with the banging of her big elbows, allowing two plates to fall to the floor and break. This is Hermione after her summer. A summer where she spent the whole month and a half in a summer camp that preached "drink and be merry for tomorrow we will die!" Her parents couldn't believe the weight she gained. The whole 150 pounds of weight she gained. It is quite impossible, right? But if SOME PEOPLE get big boobs, shaped asses, curvy bodies, and amazing muscles in one summer, why, they could also get amazingly fat!

Yes, you can't picture out the bizarre faces of Mr. and Mrs. Granger. Their only child became their only children. But since they want what's best for her, the whole lot of her, and as "good" parents to a "good" girl-zilla, they follow her every need. Besides, they got used to it right away. They always wanted somebody to spoil, unlike the responsible, reliable, I've-got-it-all-under-control Hermione. She still is all of that, only that, when it comes to fueling and refueling her stomach, her parents are more than happy to help.

"Coming, sweetie," Mrs. Granger cried. She was rushing down the stairs to stop Hermione's tantrums, which was brought in by her hunger, which caused her grotesque insanity over food. "What do you want to eat?"

It only took Hermione a nanosecond before thinking of something to… devour.

"PANGCAKES! MUFFINKS! SCRAMBLET ECKS! FRIED ECKS! TOAST! FRENCH TOAST! HOTDOCKS! CHICKEN HOTDOCKS! GERMAN FRANKS! ITALIAN SAUSAGES! WAFFLES! BAGCON! HAM!" she paused to catch some breath. Shallow breaths, to be precise. "And milk," she added. "Easy on it, though, mum. I want it low-fat. I'm on a diet."

"A diet?" her mother asked. "Why, dear, you don't need one. You're already stunningly curvy!"

And then you'd think Mrs. Granger would be happy upon hearing her daughter's desire of losing weight, and further encourage her more. But, no, she had to compliment her on her STUNNING curves. Which were of course, inside-out.

Mrs. Granger and her poor eyesight.

"Really, mum? Am I really curvy?" Hermione beamed through the meat-and-muffin combo meal in her excuse for a human mouth. "You think guys in school would like me?"

"Well, of course, honey!" the doting mother replied. "Every man would be lucky to have you!"

And with that, the "curvy" girl was filled with glee. Yes, all the quintillion grams of fat. FILLED.

oooooo

"HERMIONE, DARLING! LET'S GO!" Mr. Granger shouted out.

"COMING DAD!" she roared.

Dug! Dug! DUG! DUG! DUG! Dugdugdugdugdug! Splat.

"Are you okay, Hermione?"

"Yeah, help me get up dad, please."

"Okay, let's go," Mr. Granger said, pulling Hermione up, with his freehand holding the bars of the staircase for support. Once her daughter stood up, he asked, "Are you sure you're okay, Hermione?"

"I'm okay, dad. Good thing I fell on a carpet, else I could have gotten hurt."

"Good. Now, let's hurry before the bank closes."

Poor Spike.

ooooooo

By the time they reached Diagon Alley, the sunny morning shifted into a chilly afternoon. The place was packed with people of different kinds and faces. Nobody seemed to notice the entrance of the big girl. Then again, everybody else was too busy buying school stuff.

Hermione and her parents were also busy looking for the Madam Malkin's robe shop. Obviously, their curvy daughter needed new appealing robes. The not so little family went inside the shop and waited for the seamstress to finish off the costumer being tended to at that moment.

The old lady motioned the three to sit down on the steel chairs located near the mannequins, which was, predictably dented by the sumo wrestler a.k.a. Hermione Granger. Of course, she wasn't totally aware, because of the layered epidermis that covered her vital parts.

Unfortunately, the guy getting measured was extremely thin and puny that Madam Malkins had to offer cutting the robes in half and make special ones for the boy.

"NO! I WILL NOT WEAR SPECIALIZED, SIZE-REDUCED CLOTHES!" the boy cried. "It's not my fault I didn't grow into the 6 feet 2 inches that I hoped I would!"

And he ran outside. But as he walked quickly, the thin, frail boy tripped on Hermione's feet and nearly fell. "Watch it!"

"You're the one to watch, oinky," the guy shouted at Hermione.

"Maybe I would if a walking stick didn't have to be so rude!" She ricocheted an insult back at him.

"Son, let's go," the boy's father ordered.

ooooooooo

"THIS WON'T…..UGH.. FIT!" Madam Malkins practically huffed and puff until she robe fit through Hermione's shoulders.

"Do something about it, Ma'am!" Mr. Granger half-commanded, half-asked.

"What do you want? Sew tworobes together?"

"If it's for my Hermione's compensation, yes."

"Very well then."

ooooooooooo

After an hour or so, the Granger family walked out of the road shop and into the entirety of diagon alley.

"MOM, I'm hungkry".

"Then, let's go eat somewhere!"

The three--three and three fourth able-bodied humans went in the nearest bar, ordered fire whisky for the two adults, and the rest of the menu for their daughter. They were all having fun, especially Hermione, when…

"HERMIONE! Is that you? Good god. What happened to you? Where the hell are you underneath those sheets?"

**oooooooooooo**

**A/N:** Sorry I had to cut this short. It's just a sample. If u like it.. and u think I need to continue writing, express it via review, then I'd continue writing Draco's side of the story. hehe. So review for the continuation. You know very well how much I would appreciate it. ; )


	2. the adorable elf

A/N: I got tired of this stuff, but I'm bored now.

**Chapter 2 – The Adorable Elf**

"HERMIONE! Is that you? Good god. What happened to you? Where the hell are you underneath those sheets?"

"I know, guys, but it's so cold, I can't bear wearing thin clothes," she replied.

'Poor, Hermione,' thought Ron. 'Cellulite must have clouded her eyes, too.'

"Anyway," Ron said, trying to change the topic. "How was your summer?"

"Oh, you wouldn't believe, this," she excitedly shouts. "I had a summer fling!"

'With the fridge?' thought Ron again.

"Really?" the two boys ask in unison, half-surprised, half-doubtful. "Who's the lucky guy?" Harry continued, also doubting on the word lucky.

"It doesn't matter," she said resentfully. "He broke up with me."

"I can't see why," Harry said to comfort her, though you could trace subtle sarcasm in his words.

"He said he needed time out," she said. A few tears welled up in her eyes.

"That's okay, Hermione. Looks aren't everything."

"Looks? What do you mean Looks?"

"I mean—"

"Looks? Is that what you think, Harry? That I've gone ugly over the summer so he broke up with me!"

"No, no—"

"Why! I don't see anything wrong, Harry! Maybe I've gained a couple of pounds, but does that make me so repulsive that my boyfriend would want a time out!"

'A couple?' Ron thought. 'She's a couple is more like it.'

"I—"

"Is that it! Do I look uglier than before! I can't believe you, Harry! You're supposed to be my friend. I can't believe you've gone shallow over the summer!"

'Shallow Harry or thick Hermione? Shallow Harry or thick Hermione? Shallow Harry or thick Hermione?' thought Ron, in a singsong tone in his head. He's having a bit of fun, obviously.

"But—" Harry defended himself, but failed miserably. "Ron, help me out, please," he begged.

"Yes, Ron, add insult to the injury!" she cries. "If that's even possible!"

"Hermione, well, it's simple," Ron said as calmly as possible. "You've become a pig."

oooooooo

The other side of the story that this writer promised writing about happens right after he storms out of the dress shop. This writer will write whatever she wants to write since it is after all, fanfiction. Her mind may be full of crappy out-of-the-world ideas, but everything, and she means everything, is possible in fanfiction.

Draco Malfoy, as we all know, through all fanfiction worldwide, whether it be gay or straight, is a hunkababe-honk-if-you-think-he's-hot-toot-toot-he-IS-hot-right-on type of guy, with the look-at-my-sexy blonde hair and the oozing sex appeal and the hard-to-get-hard-to-please-but-soft-inside bad boy demeanor. Then add the in-fanfiction-I'm good at Quidditch-but-in-reality-I-suck-but-I-don't-care-everybody-loves-my-quidditch-muscles bit. It's a pain to see our hot villain turn into a celery stick, but that's exactly what happened. Right after 6th year ended, he met an innocent lady, named Volda, a few years younger than him. Being the conceited guy and all, he bet he could get into her pants in one snap of his fingers. Crabbe and Goyle and Zabini (the ever-so-loyal friends of his) placed a bet on Draco's seductive abilities. Obviously, Volda fell into his trap, got madly in love with our hunk and became his slave—both in sex and in life. But since Draco's heart is as hard as diamonds, the innocent girl got dumped and she eventually knew about the bet. The four friends' vendetta against the poor girl backfired. Volda turned out to be Voldemort's secret daughter! And so, instead of Avada Kedvra-ing him, she turned our hunk into a 5-foot, 50-pound walking stick to suffer as much as she did, or perhaps even more. Voldemort, on the other hand, thought that Draco was indeed clever to be able lure her own daughter, who was known to be un-lurable, but was angry nonetheless, so he didn't interfere with his daughter's way of punishment. Lucius Malfoy was of course, shocked and appalled by his son's non-existent physique, but knew how Voldemort would react if he retaliated.

"Draco!" Lucius shouted over the hundreds of wizards in Diagon Alley. "DRACO! WHERE IN—"

"I'm here, father," cried out little Draco. Apparently, the tolerable number of people coming in and out of the alley was a stampede for him. Footprints and shoemarks stained his bony face. _Crack_. 'I think I broke a face bone,' he thought.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING DOWN THERE!"

"Learning how to swim," he replies sarcastically. "I fell, obviou-- OUCH! Move it you fat pig!"

"You shouldn't dive when there's no water, shrimp," replied the "fat pig".

The hot-tempered little boy took out his wand and pointed it at the "fat pig". "Keep that," Lucius orders. The pissed Draco reluctantly kept his wand in his big pockets.

"Let's go. You're mother is waiting for us."

ooooooooo

When they reached their mansion, Draco was informed of a visitor.

"Oh, Narcissa!" greeted Mary Sue Snape. It still came as a shock to the Malfoys that Snape secretly had a wife and a daughter. Ooh, kiss, kiss, hug, hug. "I've been longing for your company, my dear friend—"

"Smooches, my dear, Mary Sue," Narcissa replied. "It really has been indeed a long time."

"My daughter, Mary Kate," Mary Sue said as she presented her daughter. The girl was not at all ugly. She was at an average height, long black hair, and black piercing eyes. She nodded a good afternoon to Narcissa, "What a lovely family, Mrs. Malfoy," Mary Kate said and the old hag immediately loved her.

Draco couldn't take his eyes off of the dashing Mary Kate.

"What a darling little elf," Mary Kate said. "Look, mother, she's looking at me."

Well, Draco… you know how he reacted.

"This is my SON, DRACO," Narcissa said, with a hint of anger in her tone.

"HA," was all they could say.

"Lucius!" Narcissa called out. "Your son's in a bit of a fit again! I think he wants to throw the vase at our visitors!"

The Snapes started to move away. "Oh, don't worry, he can't hurt you."

And surely, Draco was trying to pick up the small vase from the table but was too weak to do so. CRASH!

"Draco!"

"I'm going to my room!"

And so, the walking stick went walking to his room.

ooooooooooooooo

Draco had nothing better to do that night but to sit in his window pane, reminiscing the times when he was still hot. 'Oh, the times when I was still hot,' he thought.

Then suddenly, his owl came tapping on the window.

"Hello, Ashley, How are you, today?"

"Tweet, tweet," replied the bird, which means she was tired.

"What have we got here? Hmmm…

Dear Mr. Malfoy,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been chosen to be the next school year's Head Boy. You will be working with fellow 7th year student, Hermione Granger. I have been informed of your tough ordeal involving the Dark Lord's Daughter. Since the Head positions are a team, please do not hesitate to ask help from Miss Granger if you have difficulties with tasks and vise versa.

I believe Hogwarts would be in good hands this year despite the death of Professor Dumbledore.

See you on the first of September!

Signed,

Professor Gandalf"

A/N: Don't you just love the names? Lol I know it's been a long long long long long time. I'm now writing classic style short stories that has nothing to do with Harry Potter. I'm afraid I lost my touch with fanfiction. Review anyway, though. :-) thanks for all the lovely reviews, people. Will try to update more.


	3. brooms

The previous events made Draco totally nostalgic, self-loathing, extremely depressed, and suicidal. To express his anger to the world, he painted his fingernails black, dyed his hair black, put on eyeliner, checkered his Slytherin robes, and read Catcher in the Rye. He hated the people who bashed him for his weaknesses. The insecurity and angst brought tears into his eyes. "I was perfect before", he thought. "Why oh why did I do that to Volda! Why oh why did she find out about it?" The whole night he thought of ways to hide his thinness and fragility. He tried stuffing his robes with all sort of things but he found out his body couldn't carry the weight. He tried 6-inch heels, but he tripped every time he took a step. He tried steroids, but it only made his balls intolerable. He tried many spells and enchantments but Volda's spell was irreversible. Looking at his photo album, tears welled up in his eyes. There was only one place where he could feel safe and important… Gringotts or Gringgots or Greengots or whatever. The bank. (forgot the spelling sorry)

So without further ado, he screamed accio for his broom.

"Accio Broom!"

"Accio Broom!"

"Accio Broom!"

_Cricket cricket cricket._

Out of the blue, a book about quidditch appeared in front of him.

_For a wizard to achieve optimum flying, one must have a broom proportional to his body._

"Propotional to.. what the hell?"

_A broom altered to a new form will permanently stay that way. _

_Brooms have their own mind. If your broom feels that you are not fit to fly it, it would not answer to your call._

"Not fit to fly!"

_If you're under 5 feet, might we suggest a feather duster._

A/N: I have ran out of ideas. Boooo… :-( I'm so lame right now. 300 words. poor me. i'm so tired. who wants to do this story for me?


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